Precious Memories
by Joncal
Summary: Gohan discovers an old photo album with a picture of a boy who may be his long-lost brother. But why won't Chichi and Goku talk about it? What exactly are they hiding? *NEW CHAPTER UP!*
1. The Album

The album had been on the top shelf of his closet, shrouded in darkness, silently collecting dust.

Gohan, who had been rummaging through his closet in search of an elusive text book, had discovered the musty book only when it crashed to the floor at his feet.

He took a step back, eyes focused on the album. He frowned. _How did _that_ thing get in here? Weird . . ._

Now Gohan couldn't remember ever owning such a thing. So, naturally, he was curious. Slowly, the boy kneeled down to retrieve the album. As soon as his fingers scraped the surface, he felt a sudden, shocking jolt of electricity tear through his arm, making its way to his shoulder.

It had not been painful, but it was the sheer surprise of it that had caused the boy to jump back.

Heart pounding in his chest, Gohan took a few more cautious steps back. _Static electricity, _he told himself, rubbing his hand. _Had to be._

He didn't really believe it. Against his better judgement, he reached for the album once again. He cringed as his fingers made contact with the dirty cover. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut, expecting another shock.

No shock. He sighed in relief.

_See? Just static electricity._

The cover had once been a dark red, but now it was a faded pink. One of the edges had been torn off. Printed on the cover, in neat gold letters, were the words **PRECIOUS MEMORIES**.

Gohan, sitting on his bed, opened the ancient photo album. The stench floated of mildew floated out from the pages. _Gross_, he thought.

He began to flip through the pages. As he soon discovered, nearly all the pages were blank. However, there was one photo in the very back. It was a family portrait. Black-and-white.

Gohan saw himself as an infant, his father (who held Gohan close to his chest), and his mother. But . . .

But there was a boy he did not recognize. A boy of about eight. He resembled Goku in many ways, most notably, his spiky black hair. He had a soft, pallid face, and piercing eyes. This boy stood in front of Gohan's mother, who had her hands on his shoulders.

Instead of a smile, the boy wore an angry scowl.

_Who . . . is that? My _brother_?_

_Well, who else could it be?_

His brother? Where was he? Alive? Perhaps dead?

All Gohan knew was that he wanted some answers.

_Never knew I had a brother . . ._

He decided he'd ask his mother.

She was in the kitchen, standing over a large pot of soup.

The sweet smell floated down the hallway. Gohan's stomach grumbled.

"Hey, mom."

She turned, wearing an apron and clutching a wooden spoon.

"Yes, dear?" Her voice was soft and pleasant.

Gohan showed her the album. As soon as Chichi's eyes fell on the book, her mouth dropped open. The spoon slowly slid out of her grasp and clattered to the floor. "I want to know who the boy is."

"G-Gohan . . . where did . . . you find that?"

"It was in my closet."

Chichi shook her head. "D-Don't lie to me. Now tell me, where did you find it?"

"I told you, I . . ."

He saw his mother's hand lash out and felt a stinging pain rip through his cheek as it connected solidly with his face. Gohan's eyes watered. His ear had gone numb.

"You . . . you slapped me!"

Chichi quickly snatched the album from his hands, then pulled him close in a tight hug. He could feel her heart thundering in her chest. "Gohan . . . I don't want you ever going up in that attic again. I've . . . I've told you before not to go up there."

"But, mom, I didn't!"

"Gohan, go to your room."

"But . . . "

"Go." Her voice was firm.

Gohan reluctantly followed orders.

Later that night, as Gohan lay in bed, his belly full, he wondered about his brother.

Chichi had told Goku about Gohan's discovery.

At dinner, Goku and Gohan had a little talk.

"Now, Gohan, your mother has told you not to go up into the attic."

"But dad! I never went up there! Please, I'm telling the truth!"

Goku sighed. "If you're going to lie to us, then I guess we're going to have ground you for a few days. Maybe then you can tell us where you really found the album at."

"Will you just tell me who the boy is? Is he my brother?"

Neither Goku nor Chichi had replied to his question.

Gohan then promptly excused himself, disgusted.

Now, here he was, struggling to get to sleep.

_I'll try again in the morning. They're hiding something. _

There was a slight rustling sound outside Gohan's door. It was fast, brief. It almost sounded like footsteps.

Gohan sat up in bed. "Hello?"

Heavy silence.

_It's nothing, _Gohan told himself.

He continued to repeat it to himself until he drifted off into a troubled sleep.


	2. Gohan's Mistake

Gohan was dreaming.

In his dream, he held an old jack-in-the-box. The tin box was a faded red, and reeked of mildew. He saw himself reaching for the dirty crank. _No, _he thought. _No, don't do that, please . . ._

Suddenly, a hideous jester emerged from its musty tomb. It took the boy a moment to realize that _he _was the jester.

His eyes had been gouged out. Gohan stared at himself for a moment, stared at the bloody, ragged sockets where his eyes had once been, and felt a scream erupt from the pit of his stomach. The jester smiled.

_It'sjustadreamit'sjustadreamit' . . ._

* * *

The ringing phone jarred Gohan awake.

He sat up in bed, his mind still hazy from sleep, and quickly glanced around the room.

**RING!**

_This isn't my room, _he realized suddenly with growing horror. Slowly, his heart thudding in his chest, Gohan's eyes began to adjust to the darkness. _Where am I?_

Gohan could make out his desk in the far right corner, and beside it sat his dresser. He sighed in relief.

**RING! RING! RING!**

_Get the phone, dummy._

_Wait . . . _

_Didn't mom disconnect the phone?_

**RING! RING!**

Reluctantly, Gohan answered.

"Hello?"

He yawned, waiting for a reply.

_"We're gonna get you," _a harsh, childish voice hissed. It belonged to a little girl, perhaps no older than five.

"Huh?"

_"We're gonna get you," _the girl repeated. She then began to giggle. Chills crept up Gohan's spine.

"Who is this?"

"_He's coming home soon," _the little girl whispered.

There was click. The line went dead.

Gohan then jerked the covers over his head, his entire body trembling.

_It was a dream. Yeah. Had to be. Mom disconnected the phone, so there's no way you could've just done what you did. Just a dream. A bad dream. No way it could've happened, no way . . . _

But he knew it wasn't. Someone was going to "get" him. And someone else was "coming home".

_The boy from the picture, _Gohan thought. _He's going to get me._

The next morning, Gohan decided he would spend the day catching up on his history lessons. After all, he had nothing better to do.

He sat quietly in his chair, gazing at the papers scattered around him, and suddenly remembered his late-night phone call. He quickly pushed the thought away. Gohan peered out his window, admiring the beauty of the outside world, imagining the feel of the warm, afternoon sun beating down on his skin. His mind began to wander.

_Mom and dad did something to that boy_, he thought suddenly.

But what? Had they killed him? Did they smother him with a pillow as he slept? Poison his food? Strangle him by the well as he watched birds? Where did they put his body?

What had they done to him?

Everything made sense now. Why else had they punished him? Because he discovered something that he was _never _supposed to see? Were they plotting to murder him now too?

**CRASH!**

Gohan cried out. _What the . . ._

He lept from his chair and dashed over to the window. Gohan saw that an enormous oak tree rested on the forest floor. His eyes widened when he saw a young boy rested beneath the tree. The boy's arms were sprawled out, and his neck was turned out in an odd, sickening angle.

_Oh my God!_

Without hesitation, Gohan flew out the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He was completely unaware of the horrors he would soon face. But for now his mind was set on saving the boy. That was his first mistake.


	3. The House

_"Are you okay?"_

Gohan kneeled over the boy.

He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and began to shake him. "Hey, kid! Wake up!"

The boy slowly opened his eyes. "Hey . . ."

**POW!**

Gohan's nose erupted in intense, fiery pain. He managed a half-yelp, and clamped both hands firmly over his nose. Warm blood seeped through his fingers and splattered onto his pants legs.

_He's strong, _Gohan thought as tears welled up in his eyes.

"What are you, some kind of freak?" The boy's voice was hard, cold. He sounded older than he looked.

"Th-th-thought you w-w-were dead. A tree f-fell on y-y-you."

"What?" The boy sounded shocked. He glanced at the enormous oak that lay inches away. "You pushed that thing off me?"

Gohan nodded. "Y-y-y-yeah."

"Why are you stuttering so bad?"

"You hit me in the nose."

"Oh. Gee, I'm sorry." The boy's voice was softer now. Caring.

"It's okay," Gohan replied. "I probably woulda done the same thing."

The boy rose to his feet, and helped Gohan off the ground. "What's your name?"

"Dmitri," the boy replied. "And you?"

"Gohan."

"Cool. Thanks for saving me. Sorry about hitting you."

"I'm okay," Gohan said assuringly, although he believed his nose was broken. "So, how old are you, Gohan?"

"Ten," Gohan answered. "You?"

"I'm fifteen," Dmitri replied.

_He's not hurt. A tree fell on him and he doesn't have a single scratch on him! _

"Why are you all the way out here?"

Dmitri shrugged. "It was my turn to get the food."

"Huh?"

"For the club. Me and my friends. It was my turn to get dinner."

"Oh."

"You wanna meet them? They're really cool, and you could clean up." Then, Dmitri excitedly added, "Hey, you could have dinner with us!"

He then produced a small brown basket, and slowly gathered up the half dozen apples that had spillen out of it.

"Hey, where'd you get those?" Gohan asked suddenly. "There's no apple trees around here."

Dmitri sighed. "I stole 'em from a market."

Gohan said nothing.

"You still wanna meet my friends?"

"I guess so."

"Well, c'mon then."

* * *

Dmitri's hang-out was an ancient, crumbling Cape Cod. Most of the windows had been boarded up, and the door hung ajar on one rusty hinge. Beyond the door was complete and utter darkness. The front porch was decaying and in the process of sinking into the earth. "Hope they're still here," Dmitri said. In his arms was the basket of apples. He headed towards the home, carefully navigating his way around an overturned tricycle.

He and Gohan then disappeared under the rotting porch and into the basement.

_I shouldn't be here._

The basement was quite large. Although there was no floor, several ratty quilts covered portions of the room, acting as a mock-carpet. Dirty sunlight managed its ways through the cracked panes of the basement's one and only window.

"Where are they?" Dmitri asked.

As if to answer the teen's question, the door at the top of the stairs suddenly swung open.

There, in the doorway, stood someone _extremely _familiar. Gohan himself could not believe he was really seeing this person.

"Hi," the boy said, grinning. "Haven't seen _you _here before."

He then began to descend the stairs. Gohan caught a glimpse of the gleaming object the boy clutched in his hand. A knife.

_No. No. It can't be _him.

It was the boy from the album. His brother.

And he was going to kill him.


	4. Kasuke, Sayuri, and Luke

The boy continued to descend the stairway, a demented grin on his face, glimmering blade clutched tightly in his hand.

"Hey, what's with you?" Dmitri glanced at the young Saiyan. Gohan's mouth hung ajar, lower lip trembling. His eyes were wide with terror. "But . . ."

He attempted to run, only to discover that his legs felt as though they each weighed a thousand pounds. He tried to scream, but it only came out as a meek, frightened cry. The boy (_my brother_) now stood inches away.

"Hi," the boy said, speaking in a rather pleasant and friendly voice. Gohan shuddered. He watched as the boy reached into the basket that Dmitri held, retrieving a single apple. The boy held it in his palm for a moment, his eyes studying its shiny red surface, as though he were painting a mental picture of it.

"Here," the boy said, tossing the apple to Gohan, who caught it with ease. "Maybe you should eat something. You're kinda pale, buddy."

"Oh . . . uh, okay." Gohan's voice was shaky. He slowly brought the apple to his mouth, and took a large bite. It was so good! So sweet and juicy! Nectar ran down the corner of his mouth and dripped off his chin. He then promptly stuffed the rest of the apple into his mouth.

"I should've peeled it for you," the boy said. _So _that's _what the knife was for, _Gohan thought. The boy tossed Gohan another apple. "Eat up," he instructed. "We got plenty."

"Thanks," Gohan replied. "I'm Gohan."

"I'm Kasuke," the boy replied. "Nice to meet you." The two then shook hands. _What amazing eyes, _Gohan thought as he gazed into Kasuke's thin, pallid face. They were like two devilish pieces of blue-green ice. Yet behind them, Gohan could sense . . . something. What exactly was it? Something mean and cruel? What was hiding behind Kasuke?

_He doesn't really look like that boy, _Gohan thought. It had just been his imagination. _I need stop letting that picture get to me so much._

There was nothing

(_something monstrous behind him oh god what is it)_

to be scared of.

Kasuke introduced Gohan to Sayuri, a cute fourteen year-old. She had long, raven-black hair that tumbled over her slender shoulders and ended at the curve of her back. "Hi," Gohan said, feeling his face grow hot with blush. His voice came out in a trembling shake. "Hi," Sayuri replied cheerfully, hugging the boy close to her bosom. Gohan blushed even harder. Her perfume was intoxicating.

Sayuri had an older brother. His name was Luke, and his face appeared to twisted into a permanent scowl. He was a bitter sixteen year-old, as well as a drop-out and an aspiring musician. "Hi, I'm Gohan," the Saiyan said, introducing himself. He held out his hand expectantly.

Luke sighed. "I know who you are," he replied harshly.

"Oh," Gohan said embarrasedly. "Sorry."

* * *

Gohan was shocked to discover that when he gazed out the window that it was now nighttime. _Did I really stay that long?_

_Oh, no_, he thought. His parents.

"Uh, I gotta go you guys," Gohan said suddenly.

"Why?" Kasuke inquired.

"My parents'll be pissed," Gohan answered, starting towards the stairway.

"Screw your parents," Kasuke said. "Hang out with us for a little while longer."

"I really can't. Sorry."

"Hey, how about tomorrow?" Dmitri asked. "I can come by your house or something, and pick you up."

"Um, okay," Gohan replied. "You know where I live?"

"Yeah! The little one, right? Sorta looks like a beetle?"

Gohan smiled. "Yeah, it's that one."

"Great! See you around ten then."

The moon was fat and full, a sickly yellow. Gohan shivered from the cold as he flew to his home. He dreaded facing his parents. _Maybe I can just sleep in a tree tonight or something, _he pondered. But even he knew that he would have to go home _some time._

He silently crept into his room, and at that precise moment, his mother and father burst through the doorway, furious.

"Where were you?" his father screamed at him.

"Just out," Gohan replied casually.

"'Just out'? _Just out? _You've been gone for seven hours!" His mother's voice was harsh and piercing. She stood over him, hands on her hips.

"We were so worried! You're even supposed to _be _outside! Your father spent all day searching for you!"

"Why are you guys so mad? It's not like I can't defend myself against someone," Gohan snapped.

"That's not the point! We were _worried_!"

"And you're grounded, remember?"

"But . . ."

"Now," his mother began, closing her eyes messaging her temples slowly, "we'll talk about this in the morning when everybody is calm and is better able to control themselves. Is that understood?"

"Whatever," Gohan shrugged.

"Fine. Good night, Gohan."

"GO TO HELL!" Gohan screamed at his parents before slamming the door in their faces.

_I hate them._

_They killed my brother. I know they did. And they're going to get me next. I've got to get away._

He kicked off his shoes and hopped in bed, quickly drifting off into a nightmare.

In this horrid dream, he saw himself torturing small animals. Birds, kittens, and puppies. Breaking their necks, plucking their eyeballs out, skinning them alive, and so on.

* * *

Early the next morning, Dmitri appeared at his bedroom window.


	5. Trouble Brewing

**Hey guys! What's up? Okay, I know it's been a LONG time since I updated, and I'm really sorry about that. I've been busy with my second year of high school, which is a bitch, I might add. Anyhoo, here's the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy, and just be aware that I'm probably gonna rewrite this one. It sucks, but my writing skills have improved dramatically! (or that's what I think, at least). Well, comments would be greatly appreciated. Tell me what you think.**

* * *

"So were your parents mad?" Dimitri inquired.

Gohan shrugged. "Yeah, but who cares?"

"Are you even supposed to be outside?" Dimitri asked, glancing back at Gohan's modest three-bedroom abode. "I mean, I don't want you to get in even _more_ trouble."

The Saiyan sighed. "Nah, I'm not supposed to be out, but it's like I said. Who cares?"

The two walked in awkward silence, Gohan now feeling a strong and sudden dislike for the older boy whom he had rescued the other afternoon. _Who's he think he is? _the Saiyan wondered bitterly. _Tryin' to be my mom? _He also found he didn't like his new attitude. Why was he being such a jerk?

His mind drifted to the photo album entitled "Precious Memories". _The Boy...remember the Boy. What was wrong with him? _He forced himself to rid all thoughts of the album (and the Boy, for that matter) from his mind.

After awhile or so the boys arrived at the ancient, crumbling structure that had once been inhabited by some nameless family almost a century earlier. _It's the same color as the album,_ Gohan realized suddenly, and he was right. It was a dead, dull shade of pink. The paint peeled away in hideous patches.

_It was different the other night. It was. I know it was._

"C'mon," Dimitri instructed, leading the Saiyan over to the porch.

The basement seemed different, too. It smelled dirtier. The light didn't filter in as well. And the carpets were gone, exposing the muddy earth underneath. Gohan saw a cockroach scurry by his foot. At least, he _thought _it was a cockroach.

"Hey!"

Kasuke stepped out of the shadows, and Gohan discovered _he _had changed as well. His hair was no longer silky or that gorgeous shade of black. It looked rather dry and almost gray in the poor lighthing.

His eyes looked a tad bloodshot, too.

Dimitri turned in the direction of his pal's voice, and grinned. "Hey, Kasuke! Where's Sayuri and Luke?"

Kasuke laughed. "Beats me! Gohan, hey! How you doin?"

Gohan shrugged. "Okay."

Kasuke threw his head back and uttered his rusty laughter. "That's good!"

"Your parents give you shit?"

"Yeah. But they're okay now."

Dimitri mumbled something. It sounded a bit like _Yeah, right! Ain't what you told me._

Gohan ignored it, however.

A few moments later, Kasuke suggested that he, Gohan, and Dimitri all go out and "have a little fun".

"What do you mean by 'fun'?" the Saiyan asked supiciously, detecting a trace of mischieviousness in his voice.

Kasuke grinned his boyish grin and answered, "Fun! You never have fun, do you? Mommy and daddy keep cooped up inside all day, don't they?"

The Saiyan's face turned a bright maroon. "Shut up," he muttered sheepishly.

Kasuke laughed heartily. "I'm just pickin' at you. Lighten up, buddy!"

He tried.

The boys crawled out from below the porch, excitedly discussing what they intended to do. "Man, we should go over to that market by the river!" Dimitri suggested. "We could hock a few apples or something."

"Stupid!" Kasuke snapped. "What we _should_ do is go Melon Smashing!"

"Damn right!" the thief agreed.

"That okay with you, Gohan?"

Before the boy could reply, he felt a strong pair of hands clench his shoulders. Tightly.

His heart skipped a beat or two, and he let out a frightened little squeak. The hands spun him around roughly, and before he knew what was even happening, Gohan was staring up into his father's face, red with rage. His expression was twisted in fury.

"What are you doing here?" Goku bellowed, his voice firm and demanding.

"I...I..." Gohan's voice caught in his throat. Suddenly, he could no longer look his father in the eyes. _Gohan, you've been a bad boy, _his mother scolded in his mind, and from the way she spoke he guessed it was from a time when he still drank out of a sippy cup and ate his meals while strapped in a high chair. He certainly f_elt_ like a bad boy. Ashamed for disobeying his parents. _(Mommy and daddy keep you cooped up inside all day, _don't _they?)_

And then he found himself remembering the album. The Boy.

"Get away," Gohan snarled, backing away as quickly as he could without stumbling over his feet.

"Gohan!"

"This your dad?" a voice from behind inquired in a bemused tone.

Somebody else chuckled.

_Get away, Gohan. He killed your brother. Or whoever that boy was. He'll take you home and snap you in half like a twig. Then he and the Bitch will toss your body in the well...or dismember you and feed your ass to the crows, what's left of you, anyway...or maybe they'll toss you in the furnace. Nothing will be left but ashes. And they'll get away with murder. Again._

"Gohan, you're coming home. _Right now._"

_So they can chop me up!_

He felt the earth disappear beneath his feet, and suddenly he was flying. Far away.

His father's twisted scowl, Kasuke's grin, and the Cape Cod blurred into obscurity.

_Just go! Before he catches up!_

He didn't have to tell himself twice.

For the remainder of the evening he hid in the top of an oak tree. He watched his father pass a few times, frantically calling out his name. Goku sounded worried, close to tears almost, but every time Gohan found himself feeling bad and wanting to return home he remembered the Boy.

After a couple of hours his father called it quits and gave up. Gohan could sense him, but he quite far away. Maybe even at home.

He silently lowered himself to the ground, his power level lowered to nothing, and set out for the Cape Cod.

Kasuke and Dimitri were sitting on the porch.

"What took you so long?" they asked in near-perfect unison. The sun was in the midst of setting and was a bloody red. Night would arrive.

The fun was about to begin.

**

* * *

**

**So...have I lost my touch? Or have I gotten better? Sorry if this chapter wasn't what you guys were hopin' for, and yeah it does suck, but I'm sleepy and about to pass out. And yeah, it's short, but ain't everything I write?**

**- Jon -**


	6. Suits

_Gohan grasped the doorknob uncertainly. Something awful was bound to be standing behind it, waiting hungrily to drag him screaming to his demise. Regardless of the grim thoughts that raced through his mind, he threw the dirty, ancient door open. _

_There was no monster behind the door. There was no Boy._

_Only Sayuri, the girl he had met the other day._

"_I've been waiting for you," she said, almost gravely. Her cheeks were turning a faint maroon. She glanced at her shoes. "Come here." Sayuri took hold of his hand, and pulled him close for a small peck._

_Gohan felt his face grow warm. His penis stiffened slightly._

"_Listen to me," she half-whispered. "Look in the closet."_

_Sayuri's cherub's face floated out of view and the musty interior of the closet came into focus. Two small, hunched figures sat there. Skeletons. _

_The skeleton on the left had its skull titled upwards towards the ceiling, jaw hanging in a toothless gape. It still had hair. Long, silky blonde hair._

_Sayuri's hair. The skeleton on the right had curled somewhat into a ball; its face was buried in the remnants of its knees. Gohan knew it was Luke. Who else would it have been? "Do you understand? Do you get it now?" Sayuri questioned. "I'm dead. I've been dead for a long time. But He wouldn't let me leave."_

"_Who?" Gohan inquired, his lust fading rather quickly to blossoming horror._

"_The Boy … your brother. His spirit's been wayward since he passed … he's wearing that body like a suit. He tricked me and Luke … like he tricked Dimitri. He won't let any of us leave. And if you don't get out of here, he won't let you leave, either."_

_Gohan glanced at Sayuri. _

_She was gone, now replaced by a rotting hag. Her face, pale and doughy, was covered with festering sores. Her hair was nothing more than matted tangles, dead and prematurely gray. The tip of her nose was almost completely eaten away. Tiny white things squirmed furiously in the wound. Gohan felt an enormous wave of nausea roll over him when he realized the white things were maggots._

"_Do you see?" the hag asked in her curdled, decayed voice. "He won't let us leave. He wears that body like a suit. And he traps spirits in this house. Not for any reason. Just because he can. Get out of this house. Now."_

_Gohan nodded sheepishly. He backed away from the hag._

_Luke appeared beside the thing that used to be his sister._

"_She's right. Get out," he echoed. The flesh of his face began to fall in clumps. There was no blood. Gohan guessed it had stopped flowing and dried years ago._

"_Get out. He'll make you stay. He'll never let you go."_

He's coming home, _the cruel, teasing voice of a little girl chanted in the Saiyan's mind. _He's coming home, but he needs a new suit, first. He needs a new -

Gohan sat up in bed, his mind in disarray.

_This isn't my room._

Almost immediately, the stench of mildew and fifty-five years of steady rot hit him like a ton of bricks, and since Saiyans have a heightened sense of smell, it was quite painful. He clapped his hands to his nose and blinked away tears.

_I'm in the house. I'm still in the house._

Slowly, the events of the day came flooding back to him: hiding from his father, committing pointless acts of vandalism with Dimitri and Kasuke, asking to stay the night with the boys as he didn't want to face his parents back home…

Gohan rose to his feet, quickly.

"Leaving?"

Gohan glanced in the direction of the voice, but he already knew whom it belonged to. Kasuke stood inches away, barely visible in the musty darkness of the Cape Cod. But Gohan could sense his _chi … _it was an awful feeling, worse than Vegeta's, worse than Frieza's even. In a moment or two he would vomit. He would later tell Videl of the feeling while they were on their first honeymoon.

"What are you?"

"Your brother…"

"I don't understand…"

"I died not long after you were born. From appendicitis! Do you believe that? The son of Goku, the strongest man in the world, succumbed to something as small and meager as appendicitis. They could've done something for me. They had the senzu, and of course the dragon balls, but they used neither. They didn't save me because they knew what I was. They found the animals under the house. Father could tell I was something more than a bad seed. He was smart enough to realize that. And I think he might have told mother, but it was likely she already knew, too."

"But why…?"

"They did it for you. To protect you … and everybody else. From their little mistake. But when I died, I didn't _die. _I put on … a suit, and I waited. But of course, suits grow old and dirty, so I was forced to change clothes … several times."

Kasuke chuckled lightly. Gohan shivered. The contents of his stomach began creeping up his throat, and he forcibly choked them back down.

"Sayuri and Luke …"

"Extra suits of mine. Unfortunately I had to dispose of them … for personal reasons."

"Dimitri? Is he one of…?"

"He's not much of anything anymore. Think of him being a puppet and me being his puppeteer."

_That's why he wasn't hurt when the tree fell…he was just a zombie._

"What do you want with me?"

"Simple. I want to go home. But I need a body first."

Gohan whimpered. He gagged once, twice, and before he knew it, his feet were covered in yesterday's lunch.

"It's painless. I promise. Besides, it only takes a second. It'll be easier for the both of us if you just…"

"NO!" Gohan shrieked, half sobbing. He focused his _chi _and murmured: "_Ma…sen…ko…"_

A rough, calloused hand seized his shoulder.

"No…" Dimitri muttered, his voice coming out in a leathery croak. With his free hand, he buried his fist between Gohan's shoulder blades. There was a muffled crack, and then a glassy burst of pain that coursed up and down the length of the boy's back.

Gohan cried out. His vision blurred, and moments later his bladder failed. Urine spilled hotly down his thighs. The crotch of his pants was stained black within seconds.

His knees buckled, and his legs collapsed beneath him. Gohan felt himself falling to the floor, unable to move, unable to cry, or to scream for help, or do much of anything. He was fucked.

_Get up. Oh God, you have to get up. He couldn't have hit you that hard. You're half-Saiyan. You have to get up. Who knows what He'll do if he gets inside you? Get the fuck UP. NOW._

"I can't," Gohan croaked. "I can't this time."

He was right. He couldn't.

"I'm sorry he had to hit you. But if you would have just surrendered peacefully, it would've saved you a lot of pain," Kasuke said, his voice firm and emotionless.

_What … ? Is that?_

"Who the hell are you?" Kasuke suddenly spat.

"Leave the boy alone."

_Piccolo? Piccolo's here? But …_

Gohan forced his eyes open.

And smiled.


End file.
